


Grey Matter

by Newcastle



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Freeform, Gen, Identity, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Tattoos, not a happy fic so be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newcastle/pseuds/Newcastle
Summary: What makes a person who they are? What is identity? These questions and more not completely answered in a freeform flow of thoughts and feelings regarding a certain kaiju biologist from the perspective of the only person who even has a hope of knowing him.





	Grey Matter

Hermann wasn’t sure what he had expected. Perhaps he was hoping for a mess, a struggle at least. Alternatively, just an empty shell. In between, a grey area, that never occurred to him.

Working in absolutes is how science progresses, but everyone is aware that while a hypothesis exists it works within the grey area until it is proven otherwise. Hermann didn’t really wish to assess his friend in that way. He wanted to be sure. To just know. To understand immediately.

Looking at the apartment of his former partner now. It threw all the ideas he had out of the window.

There was no struggle. There was no emptiness. There was a mess, this is Newt at least, but that combined with posters of his favourite films, kaiju memorabilia coupled with old discs of his favourite songs from decades past, it was not just Newt in passing. It was him. Acknowledging this meant having to corroborate the idea of his actions being tied to him as he was as well as how he is now.

“Brainwashed” is a term bandied around a lot when referring to the scientist. But looking at this apartment. It didn’t _look_ like someone had forced him to do anything.

His entire life from this perspective was normal. A fridge filled only with leftovers and alcohol, a few condiments that were half-empty. No dishes or plates as all his food came out of boxes. Normal, if slovenly. But this went well with the perspective of him within the work environment. Interviews with colleagues provided an overall point of view that seemed to point to a hardworking and driven individual who went long hours, even weekends, trying to get projects out. Of course, this also lent heavily into the fact that Newt was doing this in order to infiltrate the systems enough to implement his plan.

The aspect of the apartment that hurt the most was the bedroom. Hermann actually gasped upon seeing it the first time. The only truly untidy room in the entire complex. The only true representation of what was happening. The most striking example being the massive tank in the corner homing the still undulating kaiju brain, lipstick labelling it as Alice. A bed covered in tangled sheets, pillows and cushions strewn in all directions, sweat stains almost visible. A reclining chair at the foot with an overused but still meticulously maintained Pons unit. Tissues at the base, mostly covered in blood, probably from the neural load causing a multitude of nose bleeds. Some tissues were soaked with other bodily liquids, Hermann tried not to think too much about that.

Newt was prolific in his planning at least, so there was endless data on his personal logs and data files, most were found in a safe under his bed. Along with manifestos of Kaiju bodyparts being moved between countries. It seemed he was still tracking and benefitting from the black market.

Once the data was collected and Alice moved to a secure facility, the apartment was stripped. All personal possessions either put into storage or investigated under further scrutiny (the kaiju figurines were pored over by several experts in particular).

Hermann oversaw the process. He volunteered. It had been only a few days after the incident, but all parties agreed an investigation into how Newt was able to achieve what he had so smoothly was imperative. He even sat in on employee interviews, not because he was an interrogator of any kind, but only to continue to delve into what the hell happened with the man he once knew so thoroughly. Was he still the man he knew?

The short answer was no.

The long answer involves more delving into that delicious grey area once again.

Newt was still Newt. His last words before escaping, hands around Hermann’s neck, were “I’m sorry.” and the first words when Hermann walked into his cell for the first time were the same. He looked like he meant it. As if he really wanted to believe that, that the words themselves were enough.

It was the first time he had responded to a human walk into the room with any remorse, any quietness. The Precursors seemed to have a level of control over Newt, this much was known, but there was no confirmation over how much, so the reaction to Hermann at all was notable.

What makes a person who they are? What is identity? These questions were racing through Hermann’s mind as he looked on at his former colleague. Friend. Something else. Just like everything else, their relationship was not easily defined.

Hermann remembered the drift, dreamt of it often. One would more likely call them nightmares but they weren’t always the world ending in a sea of blue lights through alien eyes. Sometimes they were the bite of Newt’s first tattoo on his skin. Sometimes they were Newt screaming hollowly as a child at his father. Sometimes they were endless nights of studying fuelled by cans of shit coffee, not because there was a deadline, just because he needed to know as much as he could right now.

You think you know someone. You really want to believe. In the drift that is completely possible. You are that person in a single moment that stretches out for years and years, a whole lifetime. Then you aren’t again. Also you happen to have nightmares about the destruction of the planet you live on. Sometimes.

To say that Hermann didn’t empathise with Newt was about as black and white as it got. He did. It made every fragment of him ache. Because for a whole minute. He was Newt. He could have become Newt. He didn’t. Yet he did.

Hermann studied biology. You could ask him why, but for all the reasons he gave, there was only one true answer. Another solid proof. Another certainty.

It made him question the other parts of him that changed after the drift. He had developed a taste for coffee that was never as prevalent as it was before. He suddenly loathed green vegetables, though still forced himself to eat them. He found his entire music taste changed overnight. Listening to the radio was not as painful as it used to be.

Hermann got a tattoo three years after the drift. He told himself it was not because of Newt’s influence, but after endless dreams of tattoo parlour chairs sweating under the pressure of a needle he had to know if it was a his own predilection or someone else. He got an infinity sign beneath his left armpit. He can still remember the needle press against his ribs, the sweat of his back against the leather recliner. He never got another.

After seeing Newt in custody for the first time, he went back to the empty shell of his friend’s apartment. Every shred of the man who lived there gone. Hermann looked out on nightscape through the bay windows. A city that would not have been there had Newt’s plan worked. Hong Kong was peaceful, not quiet, but still. It was looking at the life outside and the nothing around him that Hermann finally began to let out all the emotions that had consumed him over the past few days. It sounded like cries. It felt like laughter. He fell to his knees hard on the cushioned carpet. Fingers feeling the tears against his cheeks almost to check they were actually there. Once he started, he could barely stop. The salt water ran over his bruised neck. His heart clenched. He drenched himself in tears, and then slept where he fell.

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was a bunch of nothing. Huh... However, I have more feelings and I want to explore further parts of the effects of the drift so I reckon I'm going to multi-chapter this. I'd like to! We'll see.


End file.
